


Life, Interrupted.

by Hudstrige1



Category: Shameless U.S
Genre: Abuse, Fuck Terry, M/M, Milkovich Mom is alive, Sick!Ian, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hudstrige1/pseuds/Hudstrige1
Summary: Seventeen year-old Mickey Milkovich's only reason to even do something with his life, is because of his hard working, abuse victim mother Wendy.Living in south side Chicago with her, one sister, and two brothers, the five of them struggle with the day by day abuse of their father and husband Terry.When Wendy makes Mickey go down to the Gallagher home that consists of a family almost as fucked up as them, to wish them luck with the sudden cancer diagnoses of Ian Gallagher, a boy that he's known of almost his entire life, he doesn't see the point.But as time goes on, he's struck with the impact that's been made on his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) if you liked PLEASE comment and leave kudos!

Chapter One: Should've Been Frank:

Not even four weeks into the school year, Wendy Milkovich is lucky enough that four out of her five children are still attending high school.   
Three of those kids, Mickey, Iggy, and Jaimie, cackle and holler each other while stomping through the half empty school parking lot, at the end of the day.   
"The fuck is _Mandy_?" Senior for the second time Jaimie asks, stealing the cigarette from first time senior Iggy's mouth.  
"Fuck you." They breathe out in response.  
"No fuckin' clue. Probably hanging out with that Gallagher kid." Mickey, who's a junior, assumes, pulling his backup up, from slowly loosening it's way off.  
"Lip? The fucking weird one?" Asks Iggy, all of their pace of walking slowing down. He takes out the cigarette and throws it onto the ground, putting it out with the bottom of his shoe.  
"Yeah. The Einstein freak." Mickey agrees.  
Their conclusions are proved wrong, when the same Lip Gallagher-also a junior and in Mickey's physics class-distractedly and hastily walks past them.  
"Yo, Lip!" The brothers stop walking altogether. Jaimie snickers.  
"You fucking our sister?" Iggy calls out.  
"Fuck off, assholes I'm dealing with some serious shit." Lip doesn't even look back at them, while sticking his middle finger in their direction.  
"She give you crabs, or some shit?" Mickey jokes, he and his brothers cackling.   
Without another word, Lip speeds up, leaving the property entirely.  
Iggy scoffs. "Keep walking, motherfucker!"  
Mickey and Jaimie snicker.  
"He's the one with the sister, right?" Jaime asks them.  
"Uh, _yeah_ asshole. There's like ten of them." Mickey sasses.  
"Oh, yeah. Fiona. How old is she, like twenty two? Hear she sleeps around." He smirks.  
"Keep dreaming." Iggy tells him.  
" _Fuck_ you." Jaimie laughs, grinning and looking over at Mickey.  
"You'd fuck her, right Mick?"  
He scoffs.   
"Gettin' wood just thinking about it..."  
He covers his one thigh with the other to hide the fact that he's not.  
•••  
The three of them all pile into the doorway of their shit hole, no upstairs three bedroom muddled home, in one of the many bad neighborhoods of south side Chicago.  
" _Move_!" Mickey demands, shoving past the two of them and throwing his backpack onto the carpeted floor.   
"Boys?" Their mother calls out from the kitchen she's in the middle of cleaning up.  
Mickey's the first inside.  
"Hey, Mom." He walks over and plants a kiss on her cheek, observing her wipe down the countertops with baby wipes.  
"School good?"  
"Mm hm." He stands up straight and rests his hand onto her back.  
"Need any help?" He drowns out the sound of Iggy and Jaimie arguing in the living room.  
"Oh, I'm fine." She throws down the wipe and turns to Mickey.  
"Iggy! Jaimie! Enough!" She demands to their yells coming from the other room.  
Her words turn them silent.  
"Have you talked to Joey?" She asks Mick, referencing her other son who's out of school and somewhere in north Chicago wasting away their life.  
"No, you?" He knows that it's something neither of them can waste their attention on.  
"Last time I checked he was staying at a 'friend's' place." She rolls her eyes with a pant.  
"It's such a shame for him. I'm just glad you boys' and Mandy are focusing on getting an education."  
"Only for you, Mom."   
Her only remaining kids that are present in her life may drink, smoke, and drug themselves up in moderation, but if there's anything they can do to please the only decent adult in their life, it's focusing on doing something with their lives. Tenth grader Mandy is the brightest out of the four of them, Jaimie trying to get his act together after failing the twelfth grade last year; and Mickey and Jaimie doing decent for the most part.  
"Oh, _don't_ say that." She says as Iggy and Jaimie enter the room.  
"You beautiful boys make me proud just by trying."  
While opening the fridge, Iggy practically shorts. Jaimie peaks his head inside.  
"Does anyone know when Mandy will be home?" Wendy asks to all of them.   
"No idea. She's at Lip's, I'm pretty sure." Mickey informs.  
"Lip Gallagher?"  
"The only Lip _I_ know."  
" _Oh_ dear." She looks away in anxiety. "I don't want her getting into any trouble. They're a real dysfunction."   
"Like _we're_ not?" Iggy asks, closing the fridge with a popsicle in his hand.  
Exasperated, Wendy sighs. "Well I hope she's not there long. Will one of you help me make dinner? I need it ready before your Dad gets home from wherever on earth he is."  
Wanting to get out of doing his homework, Mickey volunteers.  
•••  
Terry Milkovich returns home with a grimace on his face and a cigarette in his mouth.  
"Where the fuck is _dinner_?" He asks, walking into the kitchen and frowning at Wendy who stands at the oven.  
"It's-it's ready, hon'." She lifts up the squared wide bowl of lasagna, setting it down at the center of the set table, where her sons already sit.  
"Mandy?" He inhales the smoke, taking the cig out of his mouth.  
Like he actually cares.  
"Gallagher's." Wendy answers, speedily walking over and sitting down to Jaimie.  
Terry only grunts, putting out the cigarette in the sink, and sitting the farthest from any of his family members that he can.  
"Um, shall we say grace?" Wendy holds up her hands.   
Terry grunts, while Mickey perks up in her favor.   
"Uh, yeah, Mom..." He takes her hand in comfort, knowing how uncomfortable Terry makes her feel.  
He cocks his head at Jaimie and Iggy with an raised eyebrows, wanting them to participate just to make her happy.  
He and his brothers closes their eyes, letting her lead.   
Even with his current lack of eyesight, he can tell that Terry shows no interest of even acting like he's going along with it; already preparing himself a piece of food.  
In the middle of the prayer, Mandy returns home with a look of sorrow on her face. She tries to keep quiet, knowing that Wendy's prayer is a personal time to her.   
But that doesn't stop Terry from keeping his big mouth shut.  
"Where the fuck were _you_?" He retorts, everyone else's eyes opening at once, Wendy's words stopping mid-sentence.  
"Oh, Mandy!" She beams, standing up and folding together her hands.  
"God must have heard us thinking about you. Sit down, sit down."  
"Shut the _fuck_ up and let her answer my goddamn question." Terry demands to her, making devastation flicker in her eyes.   
She wish she could be able to say that this wasn't out of character for her husband.  
Mickey sits up with crossed arms, practically had counting down the seconds to when the routine would start again.   
"At Lip Gallagher's, what's your fucking _deal_?" Mandy's sick of never being allowed to stick up for herself around him, because they all know her anger causes him to lash out even more.  
Except they don't know if that pride and bravery is worth the abuse.  
"What did you just say to me, you fucked up bitch?!" He screams, storming over and slapping her straight across the face.  
" _Terry! Stop!_ " Wendy shrieks, crying instantly at the sight.  
Mandy winces, a sharp yelp leaving her mouth.  
The brothers each stand up to her rescue.  
Mickey's the one to pull Terry back from the one sister, only to be punched in the jaw.  
Chaos ensues, Jaimie Iggy and Mick each taking beatings ones by one when trying to defend each other from the evil man.  
It all happens in a flash of up to thirty seconds, Wendy and Mandy only able to watch in fear and tears, knowing they couldn't possibly step in unless they wanted to be killed.   
In the end, the three brothers are covered in blood and bruises, breathing heavily and coughing out liquid onto the floor.   
"Yeah, that's right  _cry_ you worthless cunt." Terry reacts to Wendy weeping on the other side of the table from him.   
" _Fuck_ off." Iggy slaps him in defense of their poor Mom, before any of the other kids can.  
For that, Iggy gets punched an extra three times.  
"To your rooms! _Now_! Mandy, join them." Wendy orders, not wanting any of them to be separated from each other.   
Terrified to leave her alone with him, but knowing they must listen, the four siblings all head into the room that the boys share.   
•••  
" _You're just as worthless as your kids you know that?! Should've fucking aborted each and every one of them when you had the chance. Bet none of them are even mine 'cause you're a fucking sick sadistic whore!"_  
Hearing Terry shout at Wendy out in the kitchen is an unfortunate but normal evening routine for the Milkovich kids, who sit together in the one room all three boys share together.   
"Why can't we just fucking murder him?" Iggy mutters to his siblings, sitting on the one bed with Jaimie and Mandy, Mickey sitting against the bottom of it with his knees hugged tight to his chest.  
"We'd need a _plan_ , for that." Mandy keeps her voice down.   
The yelling stops, being replaced with the sound of a recoiling  inducing door slam.  
Relief washes over them.  
Terry left. It's Terry who always leaves.   
Wendy enters the crowded tight spaced room, with cuts and stinging tears on her face.  
Mandy's the first to stand up. She runs over and gives her a quick hug.  
"There's still lasagna if you kids haven't lost your appetite." Wendy speaks fragilely, after Mandy's stepped away.  
"Mom..." Iggy starts.  
"It'll be fine. He won't be back before sunrise. Let's just..." She trails off, exhaling deeply and rubbing her temples.   
"Mama can I talk to you alone for a second?" Mandy takes her hand, eyes gleaming with tears.   
"Oh yes, of course, sweetie." She whispers, leading her daughter out of the room.  
The brothers can only look at each other.  
•••  
Whatever Mandy and Wendy had privately talked about in the own room Mandy has, it left  Wendy walk out of the house with more tears, and her purse in tow.  
"Why the _fuck_ did you make her leave, Mands'?!" Iggy demands to her outside in the living room, Jaimie glaring at her from the other direction.  
"I don't have to tell you guys fucking anything, okay?! Fuck _you_!" Mickey hears her scream to them outside, trying to focus on his homework on the floor of their closed room.  
Noticing that she's growing emotional, Iggy decides to tease her again.  
"She was probably asking for _pads_."  
" _Shut up!"_  
•••  
Mickey still busy inside the room, and the others all in the kitchen sharing a decent amount of lasagna while making sure to save some for Mick and Wendy, she finally returns home.  
Gift basket in one hand, purse in the other.  
Before any of them can leave the kitchen to ask where she went, she's already barging right into the boys room.  
"Where were you?" Mickey asks at the sight of her, eyes going straight to the gift basket she holds.  
"Oh sweet." He comments, standing up off of the floor where he was finishing up his homework, and walking over to take out a piece of fruit.  
" _No_." She calmly lets him know that the gift basket is not only not for him, but for any of them.  
"This isn't for us."  
"Then why the fuck'd you get it?" He looks at her with a crinkled forehead.  
"Sit down, Mickey."  
"What is this. What are you doing." He squints his eyes, knowing she's up to something when she closes the bedroom door.  
"Just sit down. I want to talk."  
"Alright..." He hesitantly does so, breathing steadily when she sits down before him, setting down the basket in front of their feet.  
"Mandy was telling me about how she was at the Gallagher's today."  
"Yeah, _so_?" He doesn't see why any of this is important.  
"So, I don't usually like it when she hangs around there, but she told me some terrible news." Her voice cracks with emotion.  
"Frank finally fuckin' die? 'Cause that calls for a _celebration_."  
"Mickey, I want you to respond calmly when I tell you this."  
He waits for the big, tragic news.  
"Ian Gallagher's been diagnosed with cancer." She wipes away newfound tears.  
He blinks. That must be why Ian hasn't been at school for the past couple of days. Or why Lip stormed away from them so suddenly.  
He's seen sixteen year-old Ian Gallagher around town, usually working at the local kash and grab, or seeing him around school sometimes talking to Mandy who's in his same grade. Despite the fact that they sometimes talk, he can tell that she's much closer to Lip, who's in Mickey's grade.  
"Oh, shit." He's not really sure how his mother wants him to react.  
"Stage two leukemia."   
"That sucks."  
"Oh, that poor family. Poor Fiona trying to support all of them with Frank in and out only to cause trouble, and their mother...Monica, abandoning them years ago. This is the last thing they need."  
Mickey simply nods, observing the basket of food on the floor.  
"So you got them a basket?"  
"Yes. It's no secret that money's tight for them, so I figured I should show my support."  
"Where'd you steal it from?"  
"Oh, Mickey, I didn't steal it. I paid for it."  
He almost laughs. "You could've gotten one of us to steal it for you, Mom."  
"That's not the point, honey. You remember Ian right? You were on the same baseball team in elementary school."  
"Yeah, for like one _season_."   
"I want you to take the basket down to their house and say some nice things."   
" _Me_ -why can't you get Mandy to do it? _She's_ the one fucking his brother."  
" _Please_ , Mickhalio." She either uses his full name to guilt trip him, or scold him.  
This time it's for guilt tripping.  
"Fine, but, why me?"  
"I really think Ian would enjoy your company."  
"We haven't talked in like, three years, Mom. We were never even _friends_."   
"Well that's why I want you to keep him company! So he can finally become your friend. You could _really_ use a friend, Mickey."  
"A friend who's gonna _die_ in eight months?"  
She glares. "He's not expected to go so quickly, Mickey. There's plenty of time-and hopefully they'll even cure it...Just please do this, okay Mickey? He's feeling _so_ alone right now.  
"He has five other siblings, Mom. I think he'll be alright in terms of _loneliness_."  
" _Mickhalio_."  
This time she's scolding. Maybe even threatening.  
" _Alright_ , alright!" He stands, picking up the basket.   
"I'll do it only for you."  
But Mickey needs to realize that he can't only do things for her sake, anymore.  
The last thing on his mind is that this could possibly be for his sake.  
•••  
Twenty one year-old Fiona Gallagher angrily flies open the door of her home, scowling when she sees Mickey slouching on her porch.  
"Unless you came here to pass down the news that Lip got your sister pregnant, leave."  
" _Listen_ -" he stops her from closing the door.  
"I heard Ian got cancer."  
"You mean your _mother_ heard and she sent you down here."  
"Should've been fuckin' Frank, am I right?" He tries to share a laugh.  
"Go away, Mickey."  
"I brought you guys a basket." He holds it out.  
"You mean _Wendy_ bought one, and sent you down here to deliver it."  
"Correct, but, _I'm_ here. So I think I deserve a thank you."  
"Make sure to pass down that thank you, to your Mom who actually _gives a shit_."  
"Who said I don't _give_ a shit? If I didn't, I wouldn't have even _walked the fuck down here."_ He can hear the younger children, Debbie and Carl arguing inside the house.  
"Therefore, I am decent."  
"Therefore, you _are_ an asshole." She finishes bluntly, having enough of his presence.  
"At least take the fucking _basket_ , sweetheart."   
"We already have enough food from Sheila Jackson down the street. Put it back from wherever your asses stole it from."  
The door is slammed inches before his face.  
"She didn't _steal_ it...!" He waits for her to return.  
Nothing.  
"Fine! Fuck you, bitch! Maybe it should've been _you_! Fucking nutcase."   
Knowing how much this gesture means to Wendy, he leaves the basket on the porch, when leaving the property.


	2. Interactions:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lip agrees to tutor Mickey, leading him to finally reconnect with Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the nice comments, and the kudos I got on the last chapter so damn much! :) I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and leave feedback on your thoughts <3

Chapter Two: Interactions:

A day later, it's finally the end of the school day, and everyone is either hesitant, or desperate to open their first report cards of the semester.  
" _Ha! A!_ I got an _A!"_ Iggy gloats to Mickey in the hallway, standing next to him with a big cheeked grin on his face.  
Mickey snatches the card out of his hand, observing it with his own eyes.  
"You got _one_ A, fuck-face; the rest are all _D's."_  
"Well it's better than last year when I got _all_ D's."  
Checking his own report cards, Mickey reads that he had gotten three A's, two B's, one D and one C.  
"Fucking _nerd_." Iggy insults, checking for himself.  
"Hey fuck you. I got a _D_ in physics." He gloats to prove that he is in fact _not_ a nerd.  
"You say that like it's a good thing." Mandy chimes in breezily, walking up to them in her high heels and slinky back outfit.  
"I got all A's." She smirks.  
"Wow, Mandy. If we were a guy we'd have to kick your ass." Iggy jokes.  
"We can always beat Lip up." He adds.  
" _No_!" Mandy protests with a scowl on her face.  
"Oh, quit getting all defensive because he sticks it in you." Mickey snaps, just before his physics teacher Mr. Loin, requests him into his classroom.   
•••  
"Yes?" He stands above his desk, the older man sitting on the other side.  
"You got a D in my class, Mr. Milkovich."  
"I'm aware. I may have gotten a D in this but I got an _A_ in English."  
"Good for you, except you still _barely_ passed this class."  
"Are you gonna keep stating the obvious to me, or...?" Mickey sarcastically trails off, just before Karen Jackson quietly enters the room.  
"Just a second, Karen." Loin tells her, before looking back at Mickey.  
"I recommend a tutor, Mr. Milkovich."  
"I'll still pass. It's _one_ D. Iggy got almost _all_ D's; ya want him to get a tutor too?! I don't have time. I'm busy trying to keep my shit together."  
"Are you sure you even _have_ it together?"  
Before he can get suspended for flipping off a teacher, Mickey storms out the room, pushing past Karen in the process.  
•••  
"Hey." She calls out, twenty feet behind him in the hallway.  
" _What?"_ He rudely asks, turning around. She has no choice but to walk up in front of him.  
"If you're looking for a tutor, Lip's pretty good."  
"No fucking money."  
"Just get it in whatever way you fucking Milkovich's do."  
"Do you even _pay_ him? Or do you just fuck him?"  
" _Both_." She snaps.  
"You know he's fucking Mandy too, right?"   
"Oh, right. Your little baby sister. He's not her fucking _property_. He can fuck as many other chicks he wants. Now either take the offer, or leave it you cow shit scented fuck."  
Offended, he can only watch her walk away, with his mouth gaped open.  
" _Bitch_!" He screams.  
•••  
"Hey, Gallagher." He makes a pit stop at Lip's locker after doing some long and hard thinking.  
"What Mickey. Fiona told me you tried stopping by last night."  
"Enjoy the fruit? Good, good now I need you to tutor me."   
"I _would_ if you actually had any money." Lip raises his eyebrows.  
"You see, you're already fucking my sister, so I figured _that_ would be enough."  
Lip scoffs.   
"Fifteen dollars an hour." He lays his cards on the table.  
"Fifteen? _Fuck you!"_  
"Sorry, Mick. I do my own shit on my own time."  
"Hey...Your brother still alive?" Mickey suddenly wonders.  
"The one with cancer, or the delinquent who likes to do dangerous stunts in his free time? _Yes_ , asshole. Ian's still alive. He's not going anywhere."  
Mickey can tell by the look in Lip's eyes, that he's scared of the possibility of Ian actually dying.  
"Good...Does that mean Carl's dead?"  
"Like you give a shit."  
Flashing him another blunt expression, having given up, Mickey walks away.   
•••  
He bangs on the door with his sharp knuckled fist, bundle of up to four hundred bucks in the other. His backpack hangs by one strap, on his right shoulder.  
"Frank's at the alibi." Are Carl's words, after opening the door.  
"I'm not here for Frank. Lip." Mickey corrects.  
Carl eyes the money in his hand.  
" _LIP!!! SOMEONE WITH MONEY IS HERE TO TO SEE YOU!!!"_  
He almost breaks both of Mickey's eardrums.  
" _Jesus_ , kid." He whispers, as Lip jogs over in their direction.  
"I remember you, now. Fiona says we're not allowed to see you." Carl remembers, after getting a good look of Mick.  
"Well that's all gonna change when I give your brother money for food on the table, little man." Mickey speaks distractedly, seeing Lip make his way into the doorway.  
"What do you want this time?"   
"I am _ready_ to be tutored. I got cash." Mickey holds up the wad.  
"Christ, Mickey. I said fifteen an hour. How many hours you talking?" His eyes are wide and glowing.  
"I stole it from the kash and grab. Guy's a total pussy. His wife probably beats the shit out of him when they're home."  
" _Whoa_." Carl whispers in fascination.  
Lip smacks his head, pushing him out of the doorway and back into the home.  
"So? Yes or no, Phillip?" Mickey raises his eyebrows with spread arms.  
Lip glares at him.  
"Fine. Get in here."  
Mickey chuckles. "A _lright_. But we gotta make it quick. I can't be home after dinner or my Dad will have my ass."  
Lip doesn't know if he should underestimate, or overestimate what he was just informed.  
•••  
"Lip, what the fuck is the Milkovich kid doing here..." Fiona asks exasperatedly while glaring at the both of them walking past her in the kitchen, ironing one of Ian's shirts at the same time.   
"I'm tutoring him. Chill." Lip doesn't look at her.  
"Thanks for the fruit, Mickey." Debbie greets, walking inside the room.  
Mickey sheepishly grins at Fiona.  
"Anytime, kiddo." He looks back at Debbie, who smiles.  
Fiona rolls her eyes.   
•••  
It's been a little over forty five minutes, and Mickey still doesn't understand half the shit that Lip is trying to explain to him upstairs in his, Carl, and Liam's room.  
Debbie and Fiona share a room, letting Ian have his own room for his own benefit.  
"I really think I should get back..." His eyes anxiously stare at the alarm clock, sitting near them.  
"Ohh, I _see_ what you're doing. You're cutting our session short so you don't even have to pay me for _one_ hour!" Lip accuses.  
"Fuck you; here's _forty_ fucking bucks. Two hours. Right?" He shoves the two forty's in his hand.  
"Close enough."   
Mickey sighs dramatically, standing up and beginning to return his things-including the rest of the money-inside his backpack.  
"So, what have you learned today?" Lip purposely speaks in a professional tone.  
"Shit, man. You've been telling me shit for over thirty fucking minutes and I _still_ don't know fuck all." He rants, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.  
"Liam's right there!" Lip points to him, who's playing outside of his crib.  
"See ya, little man." Mickey pats the toddler's head, before picking up his backpack and trotting into the hallway.  
His eyes lock on the closed door of the room, across from Lip's.  
"That Ian's room?" He asks curiously, after he's walked up behind him.   
"Yeah. Probably sleeping."   
"You can see him if you want." Debbie suggests, popping up out of she and Fiona's open doorway.  
"No, he can't!" Fiona yells from downstairs.  
"Fuck off!" Mickey screams back, flipping her off even though she can't see.  
"He's up. I talked to him for a bit a few minutes." Debbie adds on.  
Mickey looks at Lip for his approval.  
"Fine. But don't let him fuckin' smoke, alright? And he _can't_ drink on his meds."  
"Fine, fine. Hold this." He takes out the cigarette and hands it to Debbie, making Lip roll his eyes.   
•••  
Mickey knocks twice, before opening Ian's door.  
He sits against his bed, with a skinny and pale figure, dead eyes with bags sagging under.  
His freckles have faded away entirely, with a crew cut styling his ginger hair.   
There's bottles of water, and medication, on every countertop in the room.  
He sits up, noticing Mickey.  
"Mickey?" He remembers his name.  
"What's up, man." Mickey takes a few more steps into the room.  
"You and Lip hanging out? I heard you guys."  
"He's tutoring me. Well, uh, trying to." He's surprised to hear  Ian chuckle, a blinker of light flashing in his eyes.  
"You didn't have to come see me, Mickey. I know this doesn't matter to you."  
He scoffs in disbelief.  
"I wanted to see how you were _doing_ , idiot. How's the cancer?" They close the door and walk over next to him.  
"It's fantastic, Mickey. How's _your_ cancer?"  
He chuckles, sitting down.  
"So, how long? Until..." Not wanting to say the words, he runs a finger past his throat, making a static noise with mouth.  
"I don't _fuckin_ ' know. A few years, maybe?" Ian predicts.  
"It's stage two, right? It's not the best but it's not the worst, either. I mean, it could be stage six. Or however many fucking stages there are."  
Ian laughs lightly, the brightness in his eyes slowly dimming when the reality hits him.  
"You should leave, Mickey."  
"What? _Why_?" He's offended.  
"Because you don't care. You don't _care_ , whether I _live or die_."  
"Okay _fuck_ _you_ , Gallagher! I would go to your funeral if you died."  
"You mean _when_ I die. And _no_ , you wouldn't."  
"I'd right a speech and everything. 'Ian Gallagher. The boy who pissed on first base in second grade." He glides his hand in the air.  
Ian laughs, that laughter being interrupted with coughing and leaning over above the floor.  
"Whoa, what's wrong?" Mickey asks, genuinely curious.  
Ian scowls at him, finishing the coughs.  
"What do you fucking _think_ , asshole?"  
Mickey flips him the bird.  
"You alright?"  
"I'm-" Ian coughs again, struggling for to sit up. "Fine..."   
Conflicted on whether he should touch him or not, Mickey only watches him.  
"What are you _fucking_ looking at..." He already feels enough like a freakshow.  
" _Nothing_. Jesus..." Mickey's cheeks flush, forcing him to look away.  
"So what about school?" Part of him is hoping that he'll magically show up there.   
"I'm studying to get my GED."  
He nods. "So, you're not gonna come back?"  
"That's kinda the point of getting your GED."  
Mickey scoffs with a smile, looking back into his eyes.  
"Well cool. Good for you, man. Do what you need to do." He tries to support him the best he can.   
"I don't want your pity, Mickey."  
" _Excuse_ me?" Mickey scowls.  
"You're only hanging out with me because I have cancer."  
" _Maybe_ , but, that doesn't mean I'm not showing support."  
"I don't _need_ your support. It's fine. I'll be dead whenever my time comes and _you_ won't give a shit."  
"Will you stop _saying_ that? I'm just _trying_ to be a _good_ _person_."  
"Well try with somebody else, okay? I don't have time for this. Quit wasting your time, Mick." Ian requests.  
There's bangs and crashes coming from Lip's room, along with moans that sound similar to Mandy's.   
Ian cringes, while Mickey grows sick to his stomach.  
"I'm guessing your sister's here?" Ian laughs lightly.  
Mickey scoffs. "Yup..." He tries to block out the noise.  
"I talk to her sometimes. She's nice."   
"And _I'm_ not?" Mickey cockily smirks.  
Ian guffaws.   
"Eh...Depends."   
The louder Lip and Mandy get, the faster they finish.  
Mick and Ian laugh and cringe at each other, at the same time.  
"You wanna play a game, or something?" Mickey points to the x-box console connected to the medium sized TV, at the other side of the room.  
"Nah, I'm fine."  
"C'mon, man, you can't just sit around here all day like a lab experiment. Do something." Mickey pokes at Ian's left shoulder.   
He chuckles, staring glumly into space.  
"I read." He shares, proceeding to look at him.  
Mickey almost guffaws.  
" _Okayyy_...Whatever satisfies _your_ pansy ass."  
Ian laughs at him with bright eyes, just when Mandy barges into the room with no bra under her shirt, and messy hair.  
"Hey Mandy." Ian chortles.  
"Hey. You doing alright?" She makes sure, crossing her arms.   
"Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."  
"You ready?" She looks at her brother, eyebrows raised.  
"Sure. I guess." Mickey figures Ian wants him to leave anyway, so he gets up.  
"Um...I'll see you tomorrow?" There's slight hope in his tone when asking Ian his question. He claps his hands together.  
"Lip's gonna keep on tutoring me, so..."   
"Okay. Sure." Ian considers it.   
"Cool. Uh...Get better, I guess. See ya."  
Mandy rolls her eyes, as Mickey makes his way out.  
•••  
Downstairs, he approaches Debbie, who's doing her homework on the couch.  
"Hey, Debs. Can I call you Debs?" He asks, sitting down with her.  
"Sure." She sets down her pencil and looks at him.   
"Can I call you Mickey Mouse?"  
"Not a fucking chance. So, just outta curiosity, how do you think Ian could've gotten...The cancer..." He asks her cautiously.  
"Probably Mom's genes. She's been having some health problems too."  
"Oh, her too? That sucks."  
"Eh. We're kinda glad about her."  
"Ah, okay. Well I talked to Ian. He seems kinda depressed. Why don't you draw a picture for him or something?"   
"Okay." Debbie smiles.  
"You know, my sister says you're only doing this because you're a mama's boy."  
"Well your sister can go fuck herself. My Mom was praying her ass off for you guys last night. I don't know if you believe in that kinda stuff, but, just thought I should let you know."  
"Your Mom's so nice." Again, Debbie smiles.  
"She's the best woman I know."  
Frank walks in, looking like shit as usual, smelling of booze and in need of a shower.  
"I'm _not_ giving you any money, Frank." They bear Fiona in the kitchen.  
"It's always _assumptions_ with you people! I thought I raised you _better_ than that." He's preaching again.  
"You didn't raise me at all, Frank."  
With a sigh, he enters the living room.  
"Frank!" Fiona yells, speeding after him.  
"Mickey, I thought you and your sister were leaving." She glares at his presence.  
"You didn't even know I was here? That's not very good sister-ing. I could've been _molesting_ the poor girl. Not that I _would_." Mickey rambles on to her.  
Debbie cringes. "What...?"  
"Get out." Fiona demands, hearing Mandy walk down the stairs.   
"Yup, you heard her, Mickey. Now if you excuse me _I'm_ just gonna..." Frank sits down in the recliner, putting his feet up.  
" _Both_ of you! _Out_! I gotta check on Ian." Fiona yells, Mandy walking up near her, with a bra back on.  
"Oh, my poor dying boy." Frank tries his best to show emotion.   
"You get money for it, right?" He exposes his true colors.  
Mandy rolls her eyes. "Whatever. We're leaving. It's almost five thirty."  
Mickey sits up with worry.  
"Shit. Come on." He knows what will happen if they don't get there in time.  
•••  
Despite being there five minutes before dinner, Terry not only beat them to the house, but beat Mickey physically while everyone else watched in horror.  
"Oh, baby I am _so_ sorry..." Wendy coos, washing the cuts and bruises on his face with a wet wipe inside she and Terry's closed bedroom, the other siblings sitting next to him on the bed.  
"It's _fine_ , Mom...Jesus." He tries to act like it's not a big deal.  
To their benefit, Terry had left. Again.   
The only problem is that he always comes back.  
"No, it's _not_ , honey. You don't deserve this. _None_ of you do. You are all so smart, and treasuring."  
She takes the wipe away, wiping a shed tear.  
It kills Mickey to see his mother cry. It kills all of them.   
Mickey plans to make it stop as fast as possible.  
"Um, I-I saw Ian Gallagher, today...Just thought you should know that."  
Her tears are slowly replaced with a smile.  
Mickey's favorite smile in the world. 


	3. The Sitter:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within a few short weeks, Mickey's stuck babysitting at the Gallagher house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a while. Thank you for reading, and feel free to share your thoughts below :)

Chapter Three: The Sitter:  
The next morning, Wendy is still bubbling about seeing Ian again, to Mickey.  
"Oh, I'm just _so_ excited that you made a friend!" She beams to him, who's making coffee for him and everyone else.  
They don't know where Terry currently is, but they hope that he's somewhere far, far, away.  
"Mom, I told you. We're not ' _friends_ '. We just talked a bit. And the only reason I was over there in the _first_ place was because his brother was tutoring me." He explains in detail, handing her her steaming mug.  
"Don't drink it yet, okay?" He advises.  
"Did he charge you?"  
"Yeah. I had the money." Mickey sets down Jaimie and Iggy's cups in front of them at the table, not wanting to tell Wendy how he got the money.  
" _How_?" She crosses her arms.  
Iggy snickers, taking a sip of his coffee and burning his tongue.  
"Did you not just _hear_ me, asshole?" Mickey asks to him.  
Jaimie cackles at the both of them.  
"Stealing is wrong in the eyes of God." Wendy puts the pieces the together.  
"God understands." He smugly says back.  
"Maybe I should pick up an extra shift tonight." She considers.  
"No. Mom, it's fine. You know what-" he stops his words, and storms into his shared room to retrieve the rest of the money from his bag.  
"Here." He hands it to Wendy, back in the kitchen.  
"Oh Mickey I can't take this--"  
"It's fine. I'll just need thirty to give to Lip later." He takes out the same amount, and slipping it in his pocket.  
"Mom, you didn't have to put _all_ our report cards on the side of the fridge, right?" Mandy asks, walking past the piece of furniture in her black high heels and tight clothes.  
"I wanted to. You're all stars, in my eyes."  
" _Mine's_ the only one that deserves to be up there." She teases, giving a playful look to her brothers'.  
"Quit gloating or I'll pour _coffee_ in your stuffed bra." Mickey retorts, walking over and pinching her right nipple.  
" _Owe! Mom!"_  
Mickey grins.  
•••  
In the middle of the school day, he catches up with Lip.  
"Hey Lip. How's your brother? He bald yet?"  
"Carl? Nah man wait until he's forty."  
"The fuckin' _red head kid,_ genius."  
"No, he's _not_. Quit getting all up in our business, asshole. I'll see you later."  
Not wanting to take any kind of part in this conversation anymore, Lip walks away.  
•••  
Mickey can't pay attention that same day, because he's too busy staring at Ian's closed bedroom door, across the hallway.  
"What are you looking at?" Lip asks irritably.  
"Just wanting to make sure your brother's not dead or anything." He looks back at him innocently.  
"Can you pay attention, please?" Lip's fed up.  
"Quit bustin' my balls, I'm listening." He mutters, chewing on the back of his pen.  
•••  
"Hey Ian..." He stands inside the now open doorway of his room.  
Ian looks up from the book he's reading.  
"Hey..."  
"How ya feelin'?"  
"Alright, I guess..."  
"Whatcha readin'?"  
"You really care?" Ian's surprised.  
"Fuck no, man."  
They snicker.  
"Well...Nice seeing ya." Mickey figures he should go now.  
Ian's smile is warm. "You too."  
His smile makes Mickey feel something inside of him-something warm and comfortable-but he has no idea what it is.  
Smirking slowly, Mickey cuts loose his short visit.  
•••  
Almost two weeks later, Ian's started chemotherapy. And the side effects are already kicking in.  
" _Jesus_ , Mickey. _Congratulations_." Lip says when he observes the A graded test he helped Mickey get in physics. They stand inside his shared room, before the desk they learn at.  
"I still don't know if I should show my Mom or not. She'll do something weird like hang it on the fridge or some shit."  
"Poor Mickey, having a mother who loves him."  
"Fuck off."  
They snicker at each other.  
"So...Can I see Ian?"  
The light in Lip's eyes disappear.  
"He's really not feeling well, man."  
"So? It's not like it's contagious or some shit. Just lemme see him..."  
So Lip does.  
•••  
" _Don't_ come in!" Ian demands once the door to his room opens, crawling under his blankets.  
"Why the fuck _not_?" Mickey asks, walking further inside the room despite his demand.  
"Mickey...?"  
"The one and only. Why you hiding?" He walks over to Ian's bed, observing his figure under the blanket.  
"Just go away...I don't want anyone looking at me."  
"Quit being such a girl. Come on out." Mickey pokes at his shoulder.  
" _Stop_." Ian whines.  
" _Fine_. _Be_ like that. Looks like I'll be on my way..." Mickey bluffs, repeatedly stomping on the floorboards to make sound like he's actually going.  
"Wait." Ian says.  
He smiles mischievously.  
"Yes?"  
"Just...Promise not to laugh, alright?"  
"Just fuckin' show me, Gallagher." Mickey's annoyed by his shyness.  
Like expected, Ian has not one hair on his head.  
"What's the big deal?" Mickey doesn't see one.  
"'What's the big _deal'?!_ " Ian's appalled.  
"C'mon, man. It's not so bad. You still look like you. Except without hair."  
"That makes a _huge_ difference, Mickey."  
"Not to me."  
Ian's shocked yet flattered at the same time, his face unable to move.  
"Really?"  
"No. I mean, who am _I_ to judge?"  
Ian scoffs. "I mean, you're Mickey Milkovich. You're an asshole."  
Mickey snickers. "That _is_ pretty true."  
Ian grins, words seeming to have left him for a few long moments. "Uh, thanks..."  
Mick nods. "Can I get you anything? Water? A wig?" He jokes.  
"Okay _fuck you."_  
He cackles. "I'm just messin'. Will I see you tomorrow or what?"  
"Why do you wanna keep on seeing me?" Ian's curious.  
"Why do you _care?"_ Mickey turns defensive.  
"Never mind..." Ian let's out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his bald head.  
"I'm never going outside again."  
"Quit shitting on yourself, man. You look _fine_."  
"I look fucking _ugly_."  
"You're not _ugly_ , Ian!"  
By the volume of his voice, Ian can tell that Mickey's not just saying that to say it.  
"Thanks, Mickey..." He's astounded, only able to blink various times.  
"Uh, you're not ugly either."  
"Fuck off."  
Mickey leaves after that's been said, and Ian can't help but smile.  
•••  
Another two weeks pass by. The abuse continues. Like a cycle. A routine. Everyone else besides those in the family can only assume that it's the Milkoviches being simply that-the Milkoviches.  
Mick and Ian exchange small words with each other almost everyday Lip helps Mickey out.  
On a new weekday, when Mick's about to leave the Gallagher house, Fiona comes in with a tear streamed, shattered facial expression.  
"What's wrong...?" He asks, thinking Ian's life sentence got shortened.  
"I lost my job..."  
"Shit."  
Lip comes trotting down, and Fiona asks him, "Where are _you_ going?"  
"To tutor someone else real quick."  
"You-you can't leave--I gotta go back out!"  
"Why? What's wrong?"  
"I lost my job." Fiona hates repeating the words, turning around in shame.  
"What-why?"  
"Fuckin' let me go..."  
"What-well lemme go tutor this kid; I can trick them into giving me extra, alright?" While walking past Fiona, he encouragingly pats her shoulders, giving her a gentle hug from behind.  
After Lip's exit is heard for all the house to hear, Debbie comes approaching them.  
"Fiona...?"  
She sniffles, looking at Mickey.  
"Can you stay here until I get back?"  
"What?"  
"Just watch Ian and the kids for, like, just under two hours. There's food in the fridge, make sure homework is done, and call nine one one if something happens with Ian, alright? Make sure he takes five of the pills in the blue bottle on his night-side table. Kevin and Veronica live next door. _Please_ , Mickey."  
"I thought you hated me."  
"Just _do it. Please."_  
"Wait-when you say next door to you mean to the left or the right-?!"  
But Fiona's already out the door.  
"Fucking _bitch_." He whispers, before turning to Debbie who just awkwardly stares at him.  
"What are you staring at? Go watch TV or some shit."  
"Okay..."  
She does as told.  
Staring at the clock, Mickey knows he's going to get a beating tonight.  
•••  
"Put the book down and take your pills, Ian." Mickey starts, walking back into his room to see him continuing to read in his usual spot on the floor against his bed.  
"You're still here?" He asks, looking up from the pages.  
"Lip's tutoring and Fiona had to go back out. I'm the babysitter."  
"I'll be alright. Just look after Liam and make sure Carl doesn't do anything stupid."  
Not trusting Ian to take care of himself, Mickey walks over and stands above Ian.  
" _Listen_ , kid. Fiona told me to look after you, too. She told me to have you take your pills." He points to the bottle that Fiona was talking about, on the table next to the left side of the bed.  
"I can do it myself."  
"Fine. Get your ass up and do it, then!"  
Ian only smartly glares at him.  
" _Fucking Christ-_ " Mickey whispers in aggravation, storming into the bathroom connected to the room and fixing Ian a cup of tap water.  
"Here." He walks back to him and shoves the glass in his hand, snatching the bottle off the table.  
"How many you usually take?"  
"Six."  
Mick puts the same amount in his palm, and shoves them in Ian's mouth.  
He pours the water down next, making sure he swallows them down.  
Once they're officially in his system, Ian snickers at him.  
"What?" Mickey snaps.  
"Nothing, uh...Thanks."  
"Ain't your slave, Ian." He comments, setting down the cup and bottle on the table, while Debbie is repeatedly yelling out his name from downstairs.  
"Mickeyyyy...!"  
He releases a huff, rolling his eyes and heading back downstairs.  
"Whatcha need, kid." He asks Debbie, who's sitting on the couch struggling to draw a picture for Ian.  
"I'm trying to make Ian a picture, like you told me to."  
"That was like four weeks ago."  
"Yeah, and I've been trying ever since, but I'm not very good."  
"Just...Try your best." He thinks that's what he's supposed to say.  
"I _did_."  
"Then..." He observes the decently average picture of a crayon drawn Ian and Debbie holding hands in the middle of a giant flower.  
"That's your best."  
"This is the only drawing of mine you've seen."  
"Exactly. Give it to him. I'm sure he'll love it."  
"You really like it?" Her eyes turn hopeful.  
"Yeah, Debbie. It's good." He tries his best to sound sincere.  
"Thanks Mickey." She smiles, grinning while standing up, and running upstairs.  
" _Ian! I wanna show you something!"_  
"Fuckin' _hell_." Mickey whispers, walking into the kitchen to discover Carl.  
"The _fuck_ are you doing?" He asks, seeing him hang an action figure over one heated side of the toaster.  
"Trying to melt this action figure."  
" _Jesus-Carl."_ He groans, stepping over and snatching the toy from his hand.  
"Can't you be like a fucking _normal_ kid and just try to have it defeat the bad guy?"  
"The toaster _is_ the bad guy. But the superhero's gonna burn." Carl smiles at the image in his brain.  
"The _toaster_ isn't gonna do shit." Mickey snaps, unplugging it and putting it inside the highest cabinet for Carl's safety.  
"Aren't you supposed to be a pimp?" Carl asks, thinking it's unfair how Mickey's suddenly making him obey the rules, when he never obeys them himself.  
"Sometimes. But if something bad happens to any of _you_ guys, your bitch sister will make sure something bad happens to _me_."  
"That sounds kinda funny." Carl's amused by the thought.  
"You won't be laughing when your eyeball is pulled out of its socket." Mick threatens.  
"Where's Liam?" Carl tests, eyebrows raising and arms crossing.  
" _Shit_." Mick whispers, spinning around and running upstairs to his room.  
He sighs in relief, seeing Liam casually standing up in his crib and cooing gibberish.  
"You're the only normal one in this family, Liam." He says to him, picking him up and walking across the hall to Ian's doorway.  
Inside, he watches him and Debbie engage in a happy conversation with each other, while Ian clutches the picture in his hand.  
"It's beautiful Debs. Thanks."  
Mickey can't help but chuckle.  
"Mickey told me he liked it." Debbie beams.  
Looking over at him, Ian scoffs.  
"Is that so?"  
Posture now stiffened and face frozen, Mickey blinks.  
"Yup."  
With a smile, Debbie trots out of the room.  
Ian shows a half smile, trying his best to focus on Liam.  
"Wanna see Ian?" Mickey asks him.  
"Yeah."  
" _Yeah_." Mick repeats in a whisper, bringing him over.  
Ian smiles at the both of them, brushing Liam's cheek.  
"Hey fella, what's up?"  
"Say 'hi Ian.' Say 'I don't want you die, Ian.'" Mickey instructs lightly.  
Ian punches his shoulder, and they both cackle.  
Liam let's out a giggle.  
"Oh, you think that's funny Liam?" Ian smiles, and Mickey scoffs with an eye roll.  
"Yeah..." The toddler smiles, touching the front of the beanie that Ian wears over his head.  
He chuckles.  
"You didn't have to do this, you know." He says to Mick.  
"There was no one else to keep an eye on the other ones."  
"Like you're doing right now?" Ian teases.  
Mickey snickers. "They're fine."  
" _CARL!! STOP!_ " Debbie yells from the floor below.  
"Get _over it!"_ He yells back, a bang being heard, afterwards.  
Ian chortles. "Whatever you say, Mickey."  
In response, he finds himself chuckling.  
"They'll be fine."  
Ian smirks, watching Liam touch Mickey's cheek.  
Surprised yet pleased, Mickey smiles.  
"Wow, Mickey. You know for an asshole you're pretty good with kids."  
"Speaking of kids, I would watch your language, Gallagher." Mickey jabs at him.  
Ian laughs.  
"I've always kinda wanted a sibling around Liam's age. To mess with and give self defense mechanisms to."  
Ian scoffs, eyebrows raising.  
"I don't think that last part is normal, Mick."  
"Where I come from, it's freakin' _necessary_."  
Though Ian knows he shouldn't be surprised, he stares at him in fascination anyway.  
"The fuck you looking at?"  
"Nothing, uh..." Ian looks away with his eyes glowing and throat clearing.  
"Nothing..."  
Broken eye contact ensues between them, a pregnant silence filling the air.  
Liam only coos, touching Mickey's cheek again.  
•••  
Not even two hours later, Mickey's walking past Fiona in the kitchen, aiming for the front door so he can leave.  
"Mickey. Wait." She says, tugging his shoulder.  
"Yeah." He looks at her impatiently.  
"Uhhh..." She scrambles around in her purse, handing him a crumpled fifty dollar bill.  
"It's all I can give you, right now." Her eyes show desperate apologizes.  
"Oh, uh..." After gazing down at the paper, he looks back up at her.  
"You don't have-"  
"Just _take it._ It's fine. It's...The least I can do..."  
"Oh...Uh, thanks...Fiona..." He's waiting for her to laugh in his face and snatch the money back.  
Except she's dead serious.  
"Yeah." She let's out a tired sigh, looking away and running a hand through her mangled hair.  
"You find a job?"  
"No, but, I'll work something out...Thanks, for this."  
"Yeah. Uh, tell Ian I said bye."  
"Didn't I hear you say that to him before you came down?"  
"Well...Tell him again..."  
"Alright. Bye, Mickey."  
" _Bye Mickey!"_ Debbie yells out from the other room, Carl repeating the same words in an even louder manner.  
"See ya..."  
After taking one last look at the top floor thinking that'll magically make Ian appear, he knows that it's time to go.  
Wouldn't wanna be late for his beating.  
But fortunately and somewhat unfortunate way, Terry doesn't show up that night.


	4. You've Got A Friend In Me:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I fell off the face of the earth. Leave your thoughts below :)

Chapter Four: You've Got A Friend In Me:

For the next few weeks, Terry's in and out of town. The only reason he sees the rest of him family when in contact, is to abuse them.  
Money grows tight around both the Milkovich and the Gallagher home.  
Lip continues to help Mickey the best he can, and Mickey tries to pay him the best he can.  
He and Ian still exchange small conversations.  
So far, he hasn't participated in another babysitting gig.  
Nothing too medically serious happens with Ian, until one day in mid-October.  
•••  
Wendy Milkovich walks into her sons' room crying, causing Mickey to concernedly set down his textbook and look up at her.  
"Mom..." He starts, rushing over and taking both her wrists.  
"What happened..."  
"Ian's in the hospital."  
"Are they gonna lose him?"  
"He's thankfully gonna be okay, but he'll be there for a few days. Something about an imbalance with his meds--" Her outburst of tears interrupts her mid-sentence.  
"Mom...It-it's gonna be okay they said he'll be fine..." Mick doesn't understand why she's being so dramatic.  
"Just-that _poor_ family. I want you to go down there and visit him."  
"What."  
"Not only for me, Mickey. For Ian. He needs a _friend_."  
"We're not friends we just talk sometimes." Mickey feels the need to defend their status.  
"Then talk some _more!"_ Wendy suggests, clapping her hands together.  
Her middle child son can only contemplate into space.  
•••  
"Hey everyone." He tries to act casually friendly with Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Carl and Liam stiffly sitting in the waiting room.  
"Your Mom again, Mickey?" Lip can tell.  
"Possibly."  
"You don't even _care_." Carl accuses.  
"Yes I fucking do. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here now would I, huh?" He defensively puts his hands on his hips.  
"Is he gonna be okay?"  
"Yeah. He'll be fine." Fiona stressfully runs a hand through her greasy hair.  
"Why aren't you guys with him?"  
"He wanted time alone."  
"Well too bad 'cause I'm going to see him." Before Mick even remembers to ask what room he's in, he's making his way down the hallway.  
A few quiet seconds pass, before Mickey comes stomping his way back to them.  
"What's the room number, by the way?"  
He's glared at.  
•••  
"Knock knock." He walks in without doing as said.  
For a moment, Ian's speechless at his presence in the doorway.  
"Mickey. You're here."  
"Course I am." He walks in and closes the door.  
"Did your Mom make you come?"  
"No, she asked me to come. Was totally optional. And I decided to. You're welcome." He strolls over to the edge of the bed, staring Ian down.  
"So what; your meds got imbalanced or something?"  
"Side effects. Really bad side effects. They're taking me off of it."  
"Good." Mickey affirms, eyeing the empty spot next to Ian.  
"Mind if I sit?"  
"Sure, yeah."  
Mickey does.  
"So, what exactly damm _happened_?"  
"Was seeing red spots...Super sweaty. Couldn't even breathe. Passed out."  
" _Shit_."  
"Yeah..."  
"Well, I'm, uh, glad you're okay." Mick awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.  
"You really mean that?"  
"Yeah. Dammit Ian. You don't deserve cancer. Why is it always the people who don't _deserve_ cancer that get cancer? You're a relatively decent human being, Ian. Me, on the other hand..."  
They both laugh. "C'mon man don't say that. You don't deserve cancer either. You have a heart."  
Mickey scoffs. "I can accept that. A soul, though?" He raises his eyebrows.  
Again, they laugh. This time even harder.  
That leads them to talk about stuff. Random stuff. Their families, music, what they think about politics...  
Each conversation topic is more random than the last.  
This is the first time Mickey can ever recall having a care free fun conversation like this with someone other than his siblings.  
"What does your Mom think of that tattoo of yours?" Ian gets around to teasing, pointing to the blank inked words 'fuck u up' on his knuckles.  
Mick scoffs. "You should've seen her when I walked in the room with it."  
He mimics her reaction that includes scolding and pure shock, causing Ian to guffaw all over again. This has Mickey laugh along.  
Fiona walks down the same hallway, and in front of Ian's closed door to see how he's doing.  
Hearing the extreme laughter coming within side the room, she assumes that right now he's emotionally doing just fine.  
She smiles at the sound, walking back to the rest of her family.  
"He okay?" Lip asks.  
Sitting down next to him, Fiona flashes a smile.  
"Yeah. He's great."  
•••  
Mickey Milkovich walks back to the rest of the remaining Gallagher family with a smile on his face.  
"Uh, thanks for seeing him, Mickey." Fiona flashes a smile.  
"You got it." He awkwardly points over to her.  
"So, if you ever want to babysit again..." She trails off. Mickey's eyebrows raise.  
"My new job's been paying me pretty well." She finishes.  
"Y-yeah that'd be cool. I'll be around." He agrees.  
"Yay!" Debbie beams, and Mick looks over at her with a satisfied facial expression.  
"Uh...See you guys...Tell Ian I'll see him whenever..."  
With a quick wave, he leaves the waiting room.  
"Wow..." Is all Lip can say in response to all of this.  
"Mickey fucking Milkovich."  
•••  
The second Mickey walks back through the door of his non-home-house, Wendy's already beaming at his sight.  
"Oh, Mickey! You were there a long time! How'd it go?! Is he okay?!"  
Mandy and Iggy snicker, sitting at the table and trying to do homework.  
"He's fine. He'll be alright. Uh...Mom, I think you'll be happy to know that Ian and I are friends." He explains, hoping it's so.  
"Oh, Mickey that's _spectacular_! I'm so happy! Since your father hasn't been around he can surely come over! His family can, too! Except Frank."  
Mickey chuckles. "Yeah. Except Frank."  
Iggy chortles. "You? Friends with a _Gallagher_?" He teases Mickey.  
" _I'm_ friends with a Gallagher." Mandy defends.  
"Fucking one doesn't count."  
She gawks."  
•••  
"Ian Gallagher? Friends with a _Milkovich_?" Fiona still can't believe it, sitting at the edge of Ian's hospital bed in bewilderment.  
He scoffs. "Yup...He's really not so bad, Fiona. I know you didn't like him at first, but--"  
"I know. I heard you two laughing when I walked over here...You can't fake shit like that. Especially when you come from a Milkovich-type-household."  
Ian nods.  
"Mandy's nice too when you really get to know her. And you know their Mom is a total sweetheart."  
"Yeah. Totally. Wendy's great. Just...Don't let anyone else in the family do you wrong, alright? _Especially_ his Dad."  
•••  
"Just watch out for that poor boy's parents, okay?" Wendy wants Mickey to promise him.  
"Especially his Mom."  
"Mom, she took off like _forever_ ago. I don't think--"  
"You've _seen_ her come back, Mickey. Just _promise_ me."  
Mandy and Iggy stare at him.  
"Alright...I promise."  
•••  
The next morning, the three Milkovich brothers aren't happy to be woken up by the wall phone ringing in the kitchen.  
"Someone get it." Iggy moans, rolling over and pulling Jamie's pillow out from under his head to cover his own.  
"Fuck _you_ man, no!" He yells, eyes still closed.  
"Mickey..." Iggy tiredly kicks his back, which rests on the floor.  
"Jesus, Christ." He mutters in response, rolling over and only sitting up an inch.  
" _MAN-DAY!!!"_ He shouts to the next room over, in hopes that she'll get it.  
"FUCK OFF!" Is all she yells.  
"FAT BITCH!" Iggy screams, in continuation of trying to fall back asleep.  
"USELESS WORM."  
All the siblings relax, when they hear Wendy answer the phone at just the last ring.  
"Hello?"  
"Oh! Fiona! Hi!"  
"Why is the hot chick calling here?" Jaimie mutters.  
Mickey shushes him, wanting to hear what he can of the conversation.  
"Yes, yes. Hold on. _MICKEYYYY!_ " Wendy calls for him from the kitchen.  
"YEAH?!" He sits up, unable to not keep his eyes shut.  
"It's Ian's sister on the phone! She wants you to talk to her!"  
"Okay, just bring the phone here!"  
"It's a wall phone, Mickey! You gotta get up anyway."  
"Fucking-geniuses with their wall phones." He whispers in irritation, standing up and stomping all the way over to Wendy with a lack of pants.  
"Hello..." He asks groggily to Fiona, after taking the phone from Wendy.  
"Put some pants on." She whispers into his other ear.  
"Hey Mickey." Fiona starts. "I know it's early but I figured you were getting ready for school."  
"And."  
"And I wanted to see if you could babysit afterwards--"  
"Okay I'll be there bye." He agrees as long as he gets to see Ian, and hangs up.  
"What happened?" Wendy asks.  
"I'm babysitting after school." He states, turning to her.  
"Oh, that's great! I'm _so_ proud of you." She smiles, touching his shoulder.  
"You're a great boy, Mickey."  
"Is there any coffee left?" He rubs his eyes sluggishly.  
•••  
Lip and Mickey walk back to the Gallagher home from their high school, in silence.  
"So how's Ian?" Mick breaks the silence.  
"Your new B.F.F?"  
"Just answer the damn question."  
Lip chuckles. "He had radiation therapy today."  
"The fuck is that?"  
"It's where high energy particles destroy his cancer cells."  
"Will it cure him?"  
"Most likely not. But, it's worth a shot."  
"Why do they have all this shit to try to cure cancer if it's not even gonna fucking _work?"_ Mick rants.  
"Well they can't guarantee everything, Mickey."  
"Fucking bullshit." Mickey takes another quick hit of his cigarette, before tossing it to the sidewalk below.  
"Do you ever think about...Him dying?"  
Lip freezes in his tracks.  
Knowing he shouldn't have asked that, Mickey stops beside him.  
"Lip..."  
"I know it's gonna happen...I also know it's not gonna happen soon. But, when it does...I hope it's a long time from today..." Lip coldly stares off into space.  
"Yeah..." Mickey doesn't want to think about it, either.  
"Let's just go..." Lip barely whispers.  
He resumes to walk, Mickey having to snap himself out of his sudden daze of sorrow.  
•••  
When the two return to the Gallagher's, Debbie and Liam are already chasing each other around the house and shrieking.  
"You're _here?"_ Fiona's surprised to see Mickey arrive.  
"What part of 'okay I'll be there bye' don't you understand?"  
"Thought you were bluffing." Fiona snickers with shock.  
"Hey guys!" Debbie comes running up to the two teen boys.  
"Hey, Debs." Lip ruffles her hair and kisses her forehead so he can look at Fiona.  
"How'd treatment go?"  
"Well. He's upstairs sleeping. Tiredness is one of the side effects."  
Mickey nods in observation.  
"Liam!" Debbie calls out, running over and scooping him up in her arms.  
"I gotta go tutor. Where's Carl?" Lip wonders.  
"He's still at school. Got in trouble. Stabbed some kid's wrist with a pen." Fiona rolls her eyes.  
Mickey laughs, until he realizes that the situation is rather serious.  
"Mickey, Kev and V next door will let you borrow their car. Can you drive over and pick Carl up?"  
"I'll try my best." He refers the driving.  
"Or walk. Walking sounds better..."  
Lip scoffs.  
•••  
"What's up little man." Mickey casually greets Carl right after walking into the principal's office where he sits before their desk.  
"Mickey?"  
"Fiona's working and Lip's tutoring. That means I'm babysitting. Ya ready?"  
"Not so fast, sir, um, Carl here has been kept after school for stabbing a child in their wrist with a pen." Speaks up the female principle behind her desk.  
Again, Mickey chuckles.  
She glares at him. "Are you his legal guardian?"  
" _Fuck_ no. I'm his babysitter."  
"Well Carl's parents will be receiving a phone call about--"  
"Yeah yeah yeah such a tragedy let's go Carl--" Mickey pulls him out of the chair and towards the door.  
"Wait! _Sir_!"  
"His brother has cancer! Ever think he angry because of _that?!"_ Mickey yells to her, right before he pulls Carl out of the building.  
"The staff here is being such a _bitch_. I was sticking _up_ for myself." Carl complains while he and Mickey walk through the parking lot.  
"From who?"  
"Some _asshole_ named David Kalespi. He kept shoving me and said he was gonna kick my ass. So, I had to do what I had to _do_!"  
Mickey stops walking to suspiciously stare Carl down.  
"What?"  
"Keep walking. When we get you back home, I'm gonna teach you how to fight. _Milkovich_ style."  
" _Sweet_."  
•••  
"Alright kid, since all the rifles are at my place, I'm gonna teach you how to wrestle."  
Mick and Carl stand a few feet across from each other in their starting positions, fists shaking and ready to fight.  
"One, two..." He starts.  
" _Three_!" Carl smiles, going right to kicking Mickey in the balls.  
" _Agh-what the fuck kid?!"_ He yells, dropping to his knees.  
Carl laughs.  
"What are you guys doing?" Debbie approaches them.  
"Mickey's teaching me how to fight." Carl smiles.  
"Yeah-and by that I don't mean _squashing_ my fucking Johnson!" Mickey screams, roughly standing up and glaring at him.  
"You just might make it, kid."  
"Cool."  
Debbie sighs exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at them.  
•••  
He makes sure to knock before entering.  
"Ian..." He whispers, creeping open the door and seeing that he's asleep in his bed.  
"You awake?" He walks over and pokes him.  
Ian moans tiredly, sitting up and looking at him sluggishly.  
"I just wanna sleep..."  
"C'mon, man, let's do something else." Mick sits on top of Ian's blanket covered legs.  
" _Owe_ -Mickey, you're making my legs more sore."  
"Sorry..." He stands up. "What's wrong? Side effects of something?"  
"Yeah...Radiation..."  
"Oh...Well, how about we do something fun?"  
Ian scoffs, sitting up.  
"And what is exactly a Milkovich's definition of fun?" He raises an eyebrow.  
Mickey snickers. "We can watch some shitty movie if you want."  
"Shouldn't you be watching Liam or something?"  
"Listen, kid. I know you got cancer and all. And that fucking sucks. But don't ruin it for everyone around you, okay?"  
"I-I'm not trying to ruin it for you..." Ian's now apologetic.  
"Okay." Mick mutters, turning away.  
"Listen, Mickey...I, uh, wanted to thank you, for visiting me in the hospital. That was really nice."  
Mickey laughs. "I am _not_ 'nice'."  
Ian smiles. "Yeah you are. You try to act like you're not but you really are."  
Blushing but forehead crinkling at the same time, Mick has no idea what to say.  
"Alright, then...What are your plans for tomorrow?"  
"Sleep. Die, eventually."  
"Not anymore. 'Cause we're gonna go around town and just do a bunch of shit. You're dying, Ian. At least see the world."  
"You mean the shitty south side of Chicago?"  
"It's close enough. So, you in?"  
"Yeah, but, I'm still in a lot of pain..."  
"I can find a way around that."  
"Mickey! Can you come help me with something?!" Debbie calls off.  
"See you tomorrow, all right Ian?" He pats his shoulder twice, before scattering out and closing the door behind him.  
Feeling some strange but satisfying glimmer of hope, Ian sits up even more and smiles.


	5. In, Up, and Out:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey go to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Just know that these updates will probably be a month apart, except I do finish school in a few weeks so I'll have more time to write then. Thanks for the kudos! :))) <3

Chapter Five: Up, Out, and Open:  
Around five a.m that night, Ian woke up throwing up over his side of the bed due to another common fever, barely able to move 'cause of extremely sore bones and muscles.  
Fiona rushed in exhausted and anxious, realizing she would need much more than a bucket.  
She cried the entire way to the hospital with the use of Kev and V's truck.  
Only three hours later, Mickey woke up on the floor of his shared room, a little too eager to see Ian.  
"Jaimie!" He chucks a pillow up into the bed where he's half asleep.  
He mutters.  
"I need some pot." Mickey declares.  
"Ain't it a little too early to be getting stoned, Mickey?" Iggy rolls over, laying just five feet away from him on the floor.  
"Not for _me_ , fuck face. Ian. It'll help him."  
"Why should _you_ give a shit?" Jaimie criticizes.  
"He's my _friend_ , Einstein."  
" _Barely_." Iggy laughs.  
"I don't think it's the best idea for you to be getting a cancer patient stoned." He adds.  
"Do you not know _shit_ about medical studies? It's called 'medical marijuana' for a reason, shit face."  
"Barely helps." Jaimie mutters, now face down in the mattress.  
"So fucking what?! It does _something_ , at least. More than _you_ retards could." Mickey rants.  
Slamming the door behind him, he automatically enters the kitchen where Wendy is making coffee.  
"Mickey, we talked about how calling your brothers' retards isn't nice." She advises.  
"Didn't the _actual_ retards take the word back? That crazy Sheila lady has tables set up down the street about it."  
"I suppose they did, but your brothers' _aren't_ actually mentally delayed."  
Mickey snickers. "Sure about that?"  
Wendy shakes her head at him. He grins and walks over to her.  
"Need help?" He mumbles, hugging her from behind.  
"No, I'm fine." She hands him a steaming cup by the handle.  
"Don't drink it yet."  
"If you don't want me to drink it yet then why'd you hand it to me?" He smirks.  
" _Mickey..."_ She whispers exasperatedly, and he laughs.  
"So, uh, I'll be going out to town today." He walks over to the table and sets down the cup.  
"Why's that?"  
"Just gonna pick up a few things." He elaborates.  
"Put some pants on first."  
He stares down at the pair of boxers he wears, usually forgetting that he's not wearing anything to cover them.  
"Dammit." He whispers.  
"You're welcome." Wendy sing songs, turning back to the machine.  
"What would I do without you?" He asks, quickly walking back into the room and retrieving the pants he abandoned on the floor last night.  
"Who knows?" She calls back, while he walks out with his legs covered.  
"Sure you don't want me to make you a bowl of oatmeal before you go?" She asks.  
"Nah. I'm fine. Love you." He walks over to her and plants a kiss on her cheek.  
"Love you too, Mickey."  
He walks over to the table on his way out and takes a quick sip of his coffee.  
" _Fuck!_ " He burns his tongue.  
"I _told_ you!"  
He brings his cup with him out the door anyway.  
"And _be nice!"_ She reminds, already preparing a bowl of oatmeal for when he gets back.  
Better said than done.  
•••  
He sends another punch to Little Hank's mouth, pulling him closer to him by his shirt and heaving into his ear.  
"You gonna _gimme_ the weed or not, bitch?!"  
"Go _fuck_ yourself." Hank snaps.  
" _Wanna end up in the hospital?"_  
"Wanna end up in prison?" Hank spits in his eye.  
" _Give it!"_ He has no choice but to strike his balls, leading Hank to drop the drug filled baggie onto the pavement.  
" _Atta boy._ "  
Mickey drops him on his side, picking up the bag and holding it over him.  
"Now _that_ wasn't so hard, was it little bitch?"  
Still helpless on the ground, Hank flashes his middle finger in Mick's direction, watching him sprint away.  
•••  
"Yo, sorry I'm late." He greets the Gallagher's after casually strolling in through the door, shaking the baggie in his hand.  
" _Christ_ , what happened to you?" Fiona carefully studies the bruises on the right side of his face.  
"Brothers." He lies. "Ian here?"  
"Debs'! You can bring him down!" Fi' calls up the stairwell.  
Mickey squints. "What _is_ he; on a fucking _leash?"_  
Debbie comes down struggling to roll Ian's wheelchair down each step.  
"Jesus. What _happened?"_ Mickey asks, once they're all the way down.  
"He won't be able to walk for a bit. He woke up last night throwing up with a fever and too dizzy to to use his legs."  
"Well he's not dizzy anymore, ain't he?" He crinkles his forehead at her.  
"Not dizzy, but it hurts too much to stand."  
"What the _fuck?!_ This is such _bullshit._ The retard doctors couldn't do shit to fix it?!" Mick rants.  
Debbie raises her eyebrows in shock, while Ian can't help but snicker.  
"No. This is bullshit." Mickey shuts him down.  
"Are we gonna go around town or what?" He's asked.  
"Hold on. I'll be right back. Uh, take this." He tosses the bag into his lap.  
"He shouldn't be sucking anything into his lungs-"  
"It's called medical marijuana for a _reason_ , princess." Mick snaps to Fi, naming her gawk.  
He stomps outside of their home before anyone could say anything else.  
"Uh, thanks...!" Ian awkwardly calls to him.  
Fiona sighs.  
•••  
" _MAN-DAY!!!"_ He shouts the second he's back inside his non-home house. He had stomped there in a frenzy, fists clenched and nose huffing. Cancer should be made only for people who deserve it. Not for people who _don't_ , aka _Ian._ Like they've been saying since day _one_ , it should have been fuckin' Frank. Hell, he would've started believing in miracles if it ended up being Terry.  
Wendy almost drops the measuring cup out of her hands, flinching and looking over at him.  
"Mickey! Manners!" She shout whispers.  
"What, shit face?" Mandy retorts, walking out in another promiscuous outfit with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.  
"I need you to find a cure for cancer."  
" _What?"_ She cringes.  
"You're smart. Get on with it."  
"You really _are_ a fucking idiot. I'm not like some old goddamn dead genius fucker. If finding a cure was so easy, I think Lip would have done that by now. Since when do you give a shit?"  
"Ian won't be able to walk for a bit because of his cancer."  
"What? Fuck." Mandy turns sympathetic, face full of emotion.  
"Oh dear. That poor boy." Wendy chimes in.  
"Shouldn't you be, oh I don't know, hanging out with him instead of complaining about how he's gonna die? You're losing time. This is a big deal for you, Mickey. This could be your only friend." Mandy says bluntly.  
" _Fuck_ you." He flips her the bird.  
"Okay, okay! Mickey, go back to Ian's and be friends with him be _fore_ he dies." Wendy chides to him.  
"Stop _saying_ shit like that! _Jesus._ " Mick demands, having enough of their words and leaving in fury once again.  
This time, Mickey goes and gets something a tad more satisfying for Ian to ingest.  
•••  
Again, he doesn't bother to knock when walking through their door.  
"Yo, Gallagher! You still wanna roll around town or not?!" He shouts out to his presence somewhere else in the home.  
"You came back?" He asks with surprise, rolling his way back to him.  
"No shit. You still in the mood to hang?"  
"I thought you were too frustrated by the fact that I'm dying slowly." Ian smirks.  
"Aren't we all?"  
Hearing the conversation, Fiona walks in asking, "Why'd you take off?"  
"Extreme measures. You don't have to worry about him infecting his lungs with all that damn smoke by the way, Mother Teresa."  
"I-I didn't say I'm restricting him-" She stutters.  
"I get it. He's already a ticking time bomb. Don't want him to blow up in smoke be _cause_ of smoke, right?"  
Ian frowns. "Uh, what?"  
"Ready?" Mickey's eyes light up towards him, showing a close mouthed smile.  
Fiona grows hesitant, scratching the back of her neck.  
"Where are you planning to take him, exactly?" Attempt of invisible worry is lacking.  
"Dunno. The park or some shit. Don't worry, Fiona. The knife factory is all the way across town, anyway."  
Ian snickers, but his sister forces a blunt smile. "Funny, Mickey."  
"I know. I'm quite hilarious." He walks over behind Ian's wheelchair and grabs the handles.  
"Buckle up, buckaroo."  
Fiona watches in a mix of terror, wonder and amusement, as Mickey sends them on their way.  
"B-be safe!" She reminds.  
The front door closes.  
•••  
Being pushed by a strong armed Mickey down the gravel road, Ian giggles out "Where are you taking me?"  
"Where you wanna go?" The chair stops short, Mickey looking down at him with raised eyebrows.  
"The park shouldn't be too crowded."  
At the thought, Mick shrugs. "Alrighty, then."  
He resumes to push, Ian skeptically looking up at him. "You don't have to push me. I can push myself."  
Focused on the road in front of him and the moment the moment that they're both having together, Mickey shushes him.  
•••  
"So this is where you wanna get high, huh?"  
"W-what?" Ian's not going to act like he's never smoked before, but isn't going to act like _has_ since the diagnoses, either.  
His wheelchair in which he sits is placed in an empty patch of grass with no other people or children for the next twenty feet, Mickey standing boldly next to him.  
"But there's children around!"  
" _Relax_ , wishbone." Mickey reaches into his coat.  
Ian frowns at the choice of nickname.  
"That's why, you'll be getting blazed the more kid friendly way." Out of his coat, he pulls a plastic baggie which contains three brownies.  
"How much you pay for those?" Ian doesn't want Mick spending money on him.  
He only snickers in disbelief at the question.  
"I don't _pay_ for things, Ian. Here." He takes one out and forcefully hands it to him.  
"Maybe it'll loosen your joints and getchya outta that wheelchair."  
Ian eyes it wearily.  
"Want some milk with that?" Mickey crosses his arms.  
Face flushed and heart in his stomach, Ian takes a huge bite.  
Mickey smirks.  
"Mm, damn even if this _wasn't_ laced with pot this is some good shit."  
At that, Mickey bellows a laugh.  
"Where'd you get this from?"  
"Just some shit-heads."  
Ian chuckles, continuing to eat.  
"Well, thanks. Fiona wants me on a strict healthy diet to 'belittle the illness.'"  
Mick scoffs. " _Bullshit_. You're dying, Ian. Don't let her control you. You eat all the brownies and smoke all the pot you want."  
He grins, leading heat to color within Mickey's cheeks.  
"You want one? You're the one that got them for me."  
"Nah, man. Maybe later."  
It takes about two pot brownies for Ian's high to finally kick in.  
"Are my eyes red?" They sit/stand in the same place at a different time. Different families throughout the park have come and gone.  
"Yeah." Mickey smirks, trying not to get too lost in them.  
"Cool." Ian chuckles.  
"Are you in pain?" Mickey's eyebrows raise, voice serious.  
"Not really. I feel kinda numb. In like, a good way."  
"Can you stand?"  
While this time it doesn't hurt, Ian's too stoned to walk.  
" _Jesus. Okay._ " Mickey grunts, standing him up straight before he can reach the ground.  
"Sorry." Ian laughs.  
"At least you're not in pain." Mickey considers, sitting him back down.  
"Ian...!" Linda, his ex boss at the Kash and Grab who also happens to he here with jet kids, beams, cautiously approaching him.  
Mickey tenses, knowing that she's aware of his weekly thefts from the place.  
"Oh. Hey Linda..." Ian makes no contact with his dilated eyes.  
"Hi, um, how's your sickness?"  
"I'm feeling better..." Ian's voice is anything but casual. In fact, he sounds practically robotic.  
"Yes, I can see that..." Her arms cross. "Well, whatever helps, am I right?" She doesn't exactly see a problem.  
"Yup..."  
"All thanks to me." Mickey cockily gloats, not giving a shit whether Linda's there anymore.  
She glances at him with a cringe on her face.  
"I don't care if you're trying to find a _cure_ for this poor damn kid or not. Quit stealing from my store." She snaps.  
"Oh, go _pray_ or some shit." He retorts, motioning to her hijab and causing her to stomp away.  
Ian scoffs. "Nice, Mick."  
"Pleasure's all mine." He smiles, and they laugh.  
Ian's eyes flutter open and closed, making Mickey's hands move to his hips.  
"Oh, no no no, man. Wake up. I did _not_ give you two pot brownies to watch you take a snooze."  
"Wake me up, then." Ian smiles at him.  
Mickey scoffs with disbelief and returned redness all over his face.  
"Alright, then...How about this?"  
He starts to slowly push him around.  
"Faster."  
"Sure?"  
"A pedestrian could pass by us at this point, Mick."  
Seeing his point, Mickey obeys with a grin.  
It's an adrenaline rush for both of them. Especially Ian, considering his body is on flight mode.  
The more dizzy they grow the more laughing do. Mickey's not even technically high, but at this point begins to feel it.  
They go around in large circles and small circles and even more circles.  
Ian finally tells him to stop in declaration that he's about to puke, and Mickey stops short with same lengthened pants.  
" _Shit_." He whispers, having to throw his coat on the grass and help Ian down on the ground.  
Breathing recklessly, the two lay next to each other in ecstasy while staring at the blurred clouds in the sky.  
"You're pretty fun, Mickey." Ian looks in his direction.  
"You're only saying that shit to me 'cause you're high."  
"No, I know what I'm saying and mean it but I'm just more laid back about it."  
Mickey faces him.  
"Thanks..." Though he still doesn't believe it.  
"I think I'll be able to walk once I catch my breath."  
That's what he does, and Mickey has no problem joining him.  
"Why was that Linda bitch here anyway?" The two enter the edge of the woods.  
"She has kids."  
Mick almost snorts. "Didn't see any with her. Probably picking some _up_ , if you ask me." He predicts the worst.  
Except it's not Linda who's the one that like to prey on kids.  
"What is it." Mickey asks, when Ian's come to a short stop and is dreadfully staring into the distance.  
"Wanna hear a secret?" He looks back at him.  
"Sure, yeah." Mickey doesn't know what he's getting at.  
"Don't tell anyone."  
"Okay, gingerbread, just get on with it."  
It takes Ian a few seconds to get the words out. In that time, all they can hear are birds chirping above them and kids playing far from them.  
"I slept with her husband a few times."  
This time, Mickey hopes he doesn't know what he's saying.  
"Wh-- _what...?"_ He blinks hard, hoping that is some sort of alternate reality.  
"I'm gay, okay-"  
"I don't give a shit about that; bang who you want but don't bang people that are _over fucking age what the fuck, Ian?!_ " He keeps endlessly cringing at the thought.  
"It was a few times when I was still working there-"  
"I don't _care_ how many fucking times it was, okay? Why the fuck would you-?!"  
"I was a _young, stupid, horny kid, alright?!_ " Ian turns defensive.  
" _You still are!"_  
Ian says nothing back to that. Mickey now wishes that his lips were a ziplock which he could just zip shut.  
But it's not. So in that case he keeps talking. By the look in Ian's eyes, he can really see that he does regret what he did.  
"Ian...Just- _don't_ fuck older guys, okay?"  
" _You're_ the one that said since I'm dying I should be able to whatever the fuck I want-" Ian's eyes are now blunt, looking into Mick's.  
"Yeah by that I meant s-smoke pot and eat shit foods; not giving _pedophile's_ what they want, fuck-wad."  
Ian smiles in response, knowing that those words mean that Mickey is actually legitimately looking out for him despite the cruel ways of saying it.  
"What, you think this shit is _funny?"_ He accuses.  
"N-no, I just--you're right, Mickey. Thanks..."  
"For what-telling you not to be such a fucking dumbass?"  
His smile only grows. "Yeah...That."  
That same smile is contagious, and climbs right onto Mickey's face.  
"Good. Let's get back, alright?"  
When returning to their original spot, they find that the wheelchair is gone.  
" _The fuck?!_ " Mickey yells, grabbing dirty looks from surrounding mothers.  
When getting his coat, he sees that the baggies of what was left of the brownies are no longer inside, and just shrugs.  
"Yo Linda! Might wanna ask your pedo husband why he thought it was a good idea to molest Ian!" He screams when they're in her earshot.  
Ian's mouth drops open, and Mickey gives him a signaling look.  
They take off sprinting with loud laughs and returning smiles on their faces. Later that day, Mickey stops by the Kash and Grab for a little visit.


End file.
